


Plastic Deformation

by kiki-eng (kiki_eng)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-30
Updated: 2008-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-05 06:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_eng/pseuds/kiki-eng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus loves Sirius; he wishes he didn't, or loved him differently at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plastic Deformation

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for internalised homophobia.

Remus often feels betrayed by himself; when his body sprouts fur and his bones twist cruelly, thoughtlessly, scrambling his innards and those change, too, and he craves flesh and blood, 'flesh' because 'meat' will never, ever be the right word to describe that want, and again when he wakes up clawed and beaten. There is betrayal also in love, when he watches that tanned, elegant neck tilt back and that face angle up, open and laughing, teeth visible, those clever grey eyes beautiful and breath-taking and knows that he will never, ever, read in them what he wants to see.

A large hand drapes across a slender thigh and caresses, teasing. They whisper to each other, voices telling a hundred unsaid things. They move slowly; not as if they had all the time in the world, but as though there were no world. He kisses her.

It's as though pressure is being clinically applied to all surfaces of his heart with a view of discovering the yield point. In that moment Remus hates himself.

There's trust in friendship Remus knows. More than that comfort, that in-your-skin feeling that being with true, trusted, friends brings, it's also being able to ask anything, answer anything. It's knowing; that you are safe, that no one would take from you what you would not give.

Remus remembers a large sienna-coloured freckle just below Sirius' collarbone. _This_, he thinks, _is why queers get beaten up in dingy public lavatories_.

He tries to forget it, to bury it, but it's rather like trying to bury the moon; his love of Sirius has woven its way into the fabric of his life in all sorts of ways and cannot be gotten out without causing the whole of it to unravel. Noticing the way Sirius' voice tilts when he banters with James, or how he drums his fingers both ways instead of just the one like most when he's waiting is habit, loving Sirius is like some horrible twisted habit that he can not break.

So he watches, hating himself for it, thinking that perhaps one day it will suddenly strike him that he no longer watches, that he no longer notices, that he is free. Sirius smiles at him from across the table, lips pulled back to reveal impossibly white teeth and eyes glinting softly in the torchlight and it strikes Remus that perhaps one day the muggles will crown him their King and he shall never have to worry about money again.


End file.
